


His Golden Throne

by ranchelle



Category: Thor (Comics)
Genre: Digital Art, Fanart, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-23
Updated: 2012-05-23
Packaged: 2017-11-05 21:27:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ranchelle/pseuds/ranchelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor persuades Loki to come down from a tree.</p>
<p>A short fic I wrote to go with the fanart I drew just for @beingevil.  Fanart attached inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Golden Throne

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beingevil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beingevil/gifts).



“Come down, Brother, ‘tis getting dark,” comes the booming voice of Thor. He strides through the forest to a particular birch tree whose branches his brother has latched himself onto like a magpie to a nest of shiny baubles.

“No,” yells the god of mischief, “I like it up here very much.”

“Why would you want to roost upon a tree-branch like a bird? It does not seem comfortable.”

Loki swings his legs, puts on his most petulant face, and sulks, “‘tis a better seat than any throne in Asgard. I am weary of being _not tall enough._ ”

Thor stands at the bottom of the tree, looks up to the petite god, stretches out his arms and smiles indulgently.

“Then I shall carry you on my shoulders. I am tall, and you shall be taller. There is no better vantage from which to see the stars this night.”

Loki scratches his chin, casually covering his growing grin with his hand.

“It shall have to do, I suppose,” he concedes, pausing for a moment so as not to seem too eager before joyfully abandoning his wooden throne for Thor’s waiting arms.

As they head down the forest path, Loki plucks the winged helmet off Thor’s head and runs his fingers over the cold, metal feathers. They mock him, an earthbound god who can neither fly in the sky nor swim in the sea. He dangles the helmet over Thor’s shoulder like a plaything and leans his head against the thunder god’s soft golden hair, enjoying the warmth radiating from his furnace of a brother.

Tonight, he tells himself, there is nary bird nor fish who would not envy him, for he sits upon the broad shoulders of mighty Thor.

 


End file.
